


Head Lights and Car Parks

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's awkward, trying to introduce yourself to your best friend who dropped out of school and stopped talking to you and made the FBI's most wanted list literally years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Lights and Car Parks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Selador! I hope this is too your liking, and I'm sorry I can't seem to hold a thought for more than 1,000 words :(
> 
> Prompt: AU in which Sams best friend from college figures our the hunting thing, and tracks Sam and Dean down to help. Not as a plot device or to be the new love interest, just because they're best friends.
> 
> Came out slightly darker than I'd intended.

How long has she been driving? 

1:47am, the dashboard tells her in green-blocky letters. 1:47, that tells her nothing. There aren't many lights here, and the road goes on. Not fast enough to be exciting, not slow enough to be careful, rolling by long white lines and under light, under darkness, under light. She will be there soon. Surely she will be there soon. Wherever there is. She could have sworn she knew where, a minute ago, but the thought hovers at the edge of her brain like a name on a tongue. 

How long has she been driving?

–

She opens her eyes on gray Pennsylvania light and hamburger wrappers on the back seat of her 2000 Toyota Starlet. Sits up, stretches, shakes her head. It's been a while, since she last had that dream. Not since she finally tracked them back east. Maybe it's the closeness. Among the wrappers she finds the other half of last nights dinner wrapped up carefully, and tears into it. She'd been a Stanford kid, had a trust fund, had a savings account. That's almost gone now. When she left she'd thought it would last her two years or more. It's lasted six months.

Firearms and bulk salt and wood got more expensive than she'd anticipated. 

But that's okay because she's so close now. They're here, in this town. In that motel across the street actually. 

Yeah okay maybe it's a little stalker-ish. Maybe she's been staking out their stake out for two days now. But what is she supposed to say? Hi Sam! Long time no see! Hope you don't mind me turning up out of the blue after three years. Yeah so you know how your girlfriend got eaten by demons? And then that detective was after you, and you were in the papers all the time, and you know I read the paper so I kept seeing you? Yeah I figured that out and I thought maybe you'd need some help, so here I am! What are we killing today?

And yeah, okay, so she hasn't actually killed anything yet. But she knows her shit. In theory, anyway. She's spent the last six months following the Winchesters. Following means there isn't usually much left when she get's there, but, whether they know it or not, they leave a pretty good trail of what happened. Of course, she's read all the books. 

But this time. This time she'd seen the signs first. Caught the patterns in the paper three days before they had, by the looks of it. This time she's here ahead of them. Now she just needs to work up the courage to tell them that. Just as she finishes the last of her leftovers Sam and Dean come sauntering out of their particularly cheezy motel and she finds herself literally diving out of sight. 

After all it's...awkward, trying to introduce yourself to your best friend who dropped out of school and stopped talking to you and made the FBI's most wanted list literally years ago. 

But, this is Sam.

This is Sam who lived on her freshman floor, and who's hair she held back when he tried to rush and he drank a fifth and a half of vodka and threw it all up almost immediately. Sam, who cheated off her notes in chemistry because he had a crush on the professor and couldn't actually focus on the lessons, Sam who stayed up late with hot chocolate during finals weeks to talk about completely, irresponsibly unrelated philosophies and television shows. Sam who laughs at her terrible biology and geology jokes. Sam who needed three drinks to talk to Jessica, and three more to ask her to dance with him. Sam who stayed in and watched old television with her on Sunday nights. Sam who was the second person, ever, that she came out too.

Sam, her best friend. 

Yeah, this is Sam. He'll understand. This is his life too, after all.

__

 

The abandoned parking garage is dark. Good. Their prey doesn't see so well in the dark either. It hasn't been living here out of desire but necessity. She hasn't heard them come in yet. How awesome would it be to just be sitting there, victorious, as the Winchesters burst in ready to fight for their lives? She couldn't ask for a more theatrical entrance. And she may well get it. It's clear the creature was injured by it's last victim, and clear that hunger is making it weak. 

She hears it shrieking it's misery to the darkness, but in the wide, concrete spaces the echo is disorienting. She dares not risk a light, it might see her first. So instead she creeps. Close to the wall, flat against the damp, and cold, porous concrete almost catching her skin. She closes her eyes and tries to track the thing by sound. Maybe, just maybe, by some instinct she's awoken in the last few months of the chase.

It works. She find it hiding beneath an abandoned car, long ago scrapped for what valuable parts it had.   
It isn't hurting anything now, but she can't think about that. It has before, it will again. It feeds on children. It doesn't see her coming, with her salt and her flame and her iron. She pulls it out feet first, in one terrible, practiced, technical-if-not-fluid movement and it hisses as it's skin steams and blisters and breaks. 

She's sitting on the body, arranging her hair where it had pulled a few clumps out when the flashlights cut through the darkness. 

It's clear that at first Dean takes her for the creature. No surprise there really, she's gray with it's blood. He's starting forward with his crowbar raised as she finishes tying the band back in place. He stops. He stops because she doesn't react, but it would, and he stops because of Sams hand on his jacket almost pulls him off of his feet. 

They stare, mouths open making fish motions, she stares back with a smile. A little sheepish if she's honest. Because let's be honest. Did any of them ever really think they would all be here?

No.

And then, finally 

“Georgie?”

“Hey dude. What's up?”

She stands, iron dropping to the ground, open, hoping.

And now it's Sam who's rushing forward, a jumble of plaid and cotton and familiarity. He wraps her up and she wraps him up back and they breathe each other in like the first scent of winter back on campus. Not Necessary, just wanted. 

“Fuck, I missed you.”

“Missed you too, man.”


End file.
